


Collecting Points

by Yaxley



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-29 04:06:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3881620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yaxley/pseuds/Yaxley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Levi works as a check-out guy at Armin’s local supermarket. Somehow, Armin almost always ends up getting served by Levi, who casually flirts with him over the register.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Collecting Points

**Author's Note:**

> Idea taken from http://apefacemcg.tumblr.com/

“That’s an Everyday Rewards Card.”

“Huh? Oh, God, sorry! I-I have my Flybuys around here, hang on…”

The check-out guy at Coles glanced at the massive queue behind Armin. It was five thirty on a Friday. Shoppers needed their four packs of Red Bull and half priced Doritos in preparation for the evening. Armin just wanted to get his groceries done and rush home in time for the Apprentice. He fumbled through his wallet, shaking out all the other rewards cards for various stores, most of which he’d only ever shopped at once.

“Hell,” he mumbled under his breath, resorting to pulling out all of his cards and shuffling through each one.

“Armin Arlert,” said the check out guy in an amused tone, languidly picking up Armin’s driver’s licence as it spilled across the counter. “That’s a weird name.”

Armin flushed red. “My grandfather named me.”

The check out guy huffed out a faint snicker. “Cute but fucking weird.”

Drawing in a shaky breath, Armin snatched his driver’s licence back from the guy’s grasp. “Look, I don’t know where my Flybuys is right now, okay? So just…never mind!”

Unperturbed, the check-out guy scanned Armin’s non-perishables, leaving behind the rest of his intended purchases. He picked up the single cucumber and flashed a sudden grin, locking eyes with Armin as he scanned it. 

“You know it’s triple points weekend for fruit and vegetables. Maybe you should come back tomorrow to finish off the rest of your shopping. Preferably some time after two o’clock and before six o’clock.”

Armin swallowed and stared at him for a moment. “Um, could I pay with Paypass please?”

Shrugging, the checkout guy scanned the rest of the items in Armin’s basket. “Sure, I’ll take whatever you give me.”

* * *

Monday morning, on his way to work, Armin swung by the supermarket to stock up on his Up & Go breakfast drink. A bargain website had listed it as being on sale and the expiry date wasn’t for another month. With the $6.75 he would save, he planned to splash out and buy the fancy brand of toilet paper, the one with the frolicking puppies printed on the quilted pattern.

“Very nutritious. Late night, was it?”

It was the same check-out guy from before, with the dark hair that parted neatly to reveal scrutinising eyes. Armin looked up from watching the guy’s hands to make sure he scanned each six-carton pack correctly and was momentarily startled to find that gaze settled unflinchingly, unashamedly on himself. 

“No, normal night,” mumbled Armin, thinking about the Scrubs marathon he’d subjected himself to the night before and how he’d eaten half a jar of pickles dipped in mustard because he couldn’t be bothered to cook anything despite the well-stocked condition of the fridge. The memory brought an shameful flush to his cheeks. 

The check out guy misread the reaction and smirked knowingly. “Oh? What I wouldn’t give to have _that_ kind of a normal night. I should start taking tips from you.”

Armin cleared his throat. “Paypass, please.”

“Flybuys?”

Their fingers brushed together for a moment as Armin handed over his card. The check-out guy’s hands were surprisingly rough and calloused, like those of a labourer. What surprised Armin even more was the sudden pleasurable thrill that came with the brief contact. _Just an innocent touch_ , he scolded himself sharply. _Look, he hasn’t even made an inappropriate comment about it._

The check-out guy flicked the card lazily in the direction of the scanner and the machine beeped approvingly. He held it back out for Armin. 

Armin reached out and yes — there it was again! He was definitely not mistaken this time. Their fingers had touched, lingered for a fraction of a second before parting, and then the sudden warmth was gone leaving behind only a dazed memory of the moment. He glanced up sharply at the check-out guy, who quirked a dark eyebrow in response.

“You know, it’s only Paypass if you have a Mastercard,” said the check-out guy nonchalantly, his voice steady and almost bored-sounding. “You have a Visa therefore it’s Pay _wave_.” Then he leaned across the counter, pinning Armin into place with an meaningful stare. “I’d be happy to teach you more, if you like.”

“I-I have work.”

Shrugging, the check-out guy plucked up the receipt and slid it across the counter. “After work?”

“Umm, I work long hours.”

“Hence the Up & Go.”

Without bothering to collect his receipt, Armin hastily nodded and backed away. “I’m going to be late for the train.” And then he bolted.

* * *

The next four times he went to Coles, Armin made sure to use the self-service check out. The machines always bitched at him about unexpected items in the bagging area but it was preferable to that certain check-out guy’s unnecessary commentary about everything Armin bought. He recklessly double-bagged everything and demanded a receipt but refused to take it as petty revenge.

Ha! Take that, Coles!

* * *

Armin stared at the screen, frozen in place, anxiety twisting into a knot inside his stomach. Conflicted, his eyes darted on either side where fellow customers were calmly scanning their items on the self-service machines with the same glazed eyes, oblivious to Armin’s plight. His gaze fell back onto the screen. $18. Surely not! He _knew_ that the washing powder was supposed to be $15 because he normally bought a different brand and had only picked up this stupid brand because it was on sale. Unless he was … mistaken? No. His usual brand of washing powder was $16. He would’ve definitely gone with the usual brand if it was cheaper. He took in a shuddering breath.

“Um, excuse me?” he said in a small voice. “Hello?”

He felt an immediate presence behind him and turned.

“Yes?”

It was that check-out guy again, viewing him with the same vaguely amused look in his grey eyes. Only this time there wasn’t a check-out counter separating them that Armin could safely retreat behind. Before he could stop himself, Armin glanced down along the other guy’s body; slim but firm, muscled too judging by the biceps that peeked out from under the starchy, neatly ironed uniform. He’d never noticed those before. Suddenly, their close proximity was too much.

Armin hurriedly stepped away. 

“Uhh, it’s just that, uh, I’m pretty sure that’s meant to be $15.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he coloured. Even though he knew that he was in the right, it didn’t make him feel any less of a cheapskate. “I mean, it’s not a big deal or anything,” he hurriedly amended. “Actually, don’t worry about it.”

Ignoring Armin, the check-out guy plucked up the 3kg carton of washing powder as though it weighed nothing more than a packet of tissues. “It’s my job to make sure you’re satisfied with the service provided,” he purred, holding the gaze for longer than strictly necessary. Then he whipped around and deposited the carton into the hands of another colleague to have the price checked. 

“So, you’ve discovered the wondrous convenience of self-service along with the millions of others intent on bringing about the redundancy of my job.” At Armin’s flustered protests, the check-out guy snorted. “Relax. It was a joke. Well, it wasn’t really but this is a shitty job to begin with so who cares if it disappears, right?”

Not sure whether or not he was supposed to just agree or to make some trite comment about the importance of the other guy’s job, Armin gave a small smile instead. The silence between them stretched on as their waited for the colleague to return with the verdict. 

“So, uh, don’t you normally work at the actual counters?” Armin finally said desperately when the silence became too much. 

The check-out guy slowly licked his lips, with just the tip of his tongue visible as he did so. “I’m flexible.”

Armin swallowed and nodded. “Right.” 

“Right,” echoed the check-out guy, casually crossing his arms so that his biceps looked even bigger. There was a jutting vein that curved along his forearm. Armin traced it with his eyes helplessly. It disappeared around the neat, almost delicate arc of the wrist bone, which rested directly next to the check-out guy’s plastic name tag. _Levi_ , it read. 

Fuck. The last thing Armin wanted was to put a name to the face. Now the check-out guy had an identity, now he was a _real person_. Now Armin would have a name to think about every time he needed to do his grocery shopping. He whirled around, away from the offending plastic name tag and glared at his stupid shopping bags. Fucking fuck hell. Fuck! 

“You were right. It’s $15 so I’ll give it to you for free.” 

The washing powder appeared back in Levi’s care as he reached past Armin to fix the error on the screen. The cheap fabric of the uniform was taut against his body as he bent over, accentuating the strength of his back muscles. The guy wasn’t just in shape, he was fucking built. Oh God. And he smelled of soap, clean and fresh. It was only at this close distance that Armin was about to catch a whiff. It was suddenly intoxicating. 

_Levi_ , Armin mused absently. _Levi, you smell really good._

As soon as the thought came to him, Armin paled and mentally chastised himself. No! Quick, turn this experience into a bad memory! Armin thought wildly of something to say that would sour the moment forever, before he developed a-a … a thing for — a thawing of cordiality. “ _You’re_ not giving me anything,” he choked. He cleared his throat and said in a would-be hard voice. “That’s simply store policy. You’re only doing what you’re supposed to.”

Levi stilled in his movements for a second, then continued to scan his staff card barcode into the machine. When he finished with the machine, he placed the washing powder into the shopping back and straightened. When he faced Armin, his demeanour had changed. A small frown appeared between his brows.

“Right,” said Levi in a quiet voice. He gave a small sigh of annoyance. Then a professional mask slipped into place and he stepped back politely with a thin-lipped smile. “Please go ahead with the rest of your purchases.”

“Thank you,” replied Armin, icily. He quickly scanned the remaining items in his basket then made his payment, angrily triple-bagging everything. He jabbed the screen for a receipt and then pointedly ignored it when the sheaf of paper flopped out of the slot. Hmph! He snatched up the bags and stomped out of the supermarket, all at once furious at himself for reasons that he declined to fully examine. 

“Hey!”

Even though Armin now knew Levi’s name, he staunchly, desperately refused to commit it to memory. It was simply the check-out guy. Nonetheless, he turned around slowly to see the guy jog up to him. “You forgot your receipt.”

“I don’t want it,” Armin said sharply. 

“Then next time don’t fucking waste paper,” snapped Le— _the check-out guy_ , annoyance writ across his face. He shoved the receipt into Armin’s shopping bag and stormed back to the supermarket.

* * *

Armin finished putting away his groceries and started tying up the plastic bags to store for later. He plucked out the crumpled receipt and was about to throw it into the rubbish bin when he saw the hasty scrawl on the back. It read:

_What the fuck???_

And below that was a mobile phone number.

* * *

“Yeah?”

“Uh, it’s me, Armin. From the supermarket.”

“Oh, you. You were definitely fucking checking me out. And the fact that you’ve waited four days to finally call suggests that you have also most certainly been thinking about me all this time. So what the actual fuck?”

“I’m kind of an idiot.”

“Clearly.”

* * *

The pastry wedged inside the vanilla slice had all but disintegrated into the congealed custard but Armin bravely ploughed on, choking down the grainy icing. Across the somewhat tacky table from him, Levi watched with the intensity of a linesman at a professional tennis match. 

“It’s good,” Armin said after swallowing his mouthful. “How’s your lamington?”

“Disgusting. I prefer the ones from Coles. And they’re cheaper.”

Armin threw him a teasing smile. “You’ve been brainwashed. The great PR machine churns on.”

“Fuck off,” Levi replied, although he allowed himself a small smile in response. “I’ve seen the contents of your shopping basket. You can’t get enough of our dairy products.”

The coffee was bitter in an unpleasant way but Armin felt warmed up nonetheless. “Were you judging me based on the contents of my shopping basket?”

“Of course,” snorted Levi, lounging back on the stiff wire-backed chair and somehow making it look comfortable. “You were just another customer until I saw the 3-for-$10 boxes of frozen chicken tenders and instant soup combo. That was when I knew I had to say something. Genius like that only comes around once in a lifetime.” 

Around them, sticky-fingered children danced between the tables while their mothers bitched about the compulsory volunteering clause of the local primary school, and the smell of burnt coffee beans wafted heavily in the air. Despite the sarcastic tone of voice, Levi’s expression had softened as he took a sip of his black tea (“Can’t believe I’m paying three dollars for a teabag when I know it’s also three dollars for an entire carton of two hundred. And it’s not even fucking Twinings.” “It’s okay, next time we’ll trawl the city for free samples at T2.”), like maybe beneath the careless exterior he’d actually been waiting for someone to pique his interest. 

And out of all the people that had passed through the check-out counter, the teeming tens of thousands per day that drifted by fumbling through wallets to pull out the correct store loyalty card, it had been Armin who had caught Levi’s attention. 

“Well, I had to make use of the double point special. It’s practically a full-time job working out the most strategic way to collect points,” Armin responded, taking another bite of his vanilla slice. He found that it wasn’t nearly as sickeningly sweet if he hurriedly chased it with a mouthful of coffee. 

Levi raised an eyebrow sceptically. “And when you finally accumulate those points, what are you going to spend them on?”

“Well,” replied Armin thoughtfully, leaning across the table and wiping off the tiny shreds of desiccated coconut that had caught on the edge of Levi’s lips, “I was thinking that if I keep at it another two years, I’ll probably have saved up enough points for some movie tickets.”

“Tch. Give it a decade and we might be able to upgrade to Gold Class.”


End file.
